


Everybody Wants to Rule the World (it is such a perfect place to start) My Love

by Filigranka



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Crack Treated Seriously, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Forced Proximity, Politics, but mostly crack, the author feels for the wedding planner and it shows, tropes cliches and all that jazz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-28 18:25:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17792447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/pseuds/Filigranka
Summary: "Let’s focus on the bright side for a moment. You’re the same species, he hasn’t personally killed your family members, he isn’t deformed physically, you don’t have to consummate the marriage or live with him, the contract allows you to take as many suitors as you want and right now, you both hate the peace negotiators deeply."





	Everybody Wants to Rule the World (it is such a perfect place to start) My Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kereia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kereia/gifts).



 

‘One day,’ whispered Leia, ‘I’m going to kill you for this. I swear.’

‘Well,’ said Nellus Vad, the newest—fifth, this year—Chancellor, clicking her tongue, ‘we’re all willing to die for peace. But it’s good to see you and Hux share at least one sentiment. It will make the whole arrangement easier.’

 

‘...If, by some cruel whims of Fate—this part was definitely dictated by C-3PO—the need for a face to face meeting would arise, the New Republic demands the right to provide General Organa, Princess of Alderaan, Governing Baroness of... et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, bla-bla-bla, et cetera... oh, it’s here. They want my mother to have as many bodyguards and servants with her as she would want.’

‘Granted, as long as I may do the same.’

‘Reasonable demand. I will add it to our list.’ Ren sighed. ‘It’s terrible, you know? Arranging my own mother's marriage to... to _you._ ’

‘With all due respect, you wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t killed your father.’ Or been more effective at killing Leia, but Hux wasn’t suicidal enough to voice this thought. ‘May we focus on the reality, not dreams about avoiding our previous mistakes? What else does your mother want?’

‘For you to die before this whole circus, it seems.’

‘I can’t say I don’t understand her perspective, but this is out of the question...’ Hux looked at Ren suspiciously. ‘Without someone to sign this petty marriage union act, there will be no peace. And we can’t push someone with a lower rank. It would look offensive and wouldn’t have enough bidding power.’

‘I’m aware.’

‘It will be purely theoretical. We won’t share or inherit a single credit from each other. It’s just a stupid symbol for the galaxy. A nice party for all, so they know the war is over.’

‘I think,’ for once, Ren sounded thoughtful, ‘it’s the galaxy’s revenge. On you and my mother both. And,’ he added, immediately sounding like a self-pitying child, ‘on _me_.’

 

‘Air masks for you and your bodyguards, because you refuse to breathe the same air as this little rat,’ repeated Fa’mm Andler, the hottest wedding planner in the Core, Master of Ceremonies for the Noble House of Kuat. Her lekku twitched slightly. ‘OK. We’ve had similar issues with inter-species marriages. We’re going to find some air masks which would complement the colour of your eyes, You Highness. Would you prefer general tones to be gold, silver, platinum...?’

Leia looked at her in silence. Fa’mm looked back for a moment or two, then sighed and put her datapad away.

‘Listen, I know you don’t want to do this and, frankly, I understand why, but this is not the worst arranged marriage I’ve planned. At least you both belong to the same species! And he hasn't personally murdered your previous husband, so—‘

‘He might as well—’

‘Well, yeah, he might have, but he didn’t, let’s focus on the bright side for a moment, OK? So you’re the same species, he hasn’t killed your family members, I mean, personally... He isn’t deformed physically, you don’t have to consummate the marriage or live with him, the contract allows you to take as many suitors as you want... See? I've done plenty of worse political deals. Plenty. Let’s focus on making it the best organised, best dressed and most alcohol soaked day of your life, right? And don’t worry, I have tons of experience. Did you hear about the wedding between Mon Calamari and Gen’Dai I organised? Let me tell you, Your Highness, _that_ was a difficult contract...’

 

The list of questions from princess’—their—wedding planner—Master of Ceremonies—started to make Hux’s head ache before he read a quarter of it. And he thought First Order’s official meetings were a pompous nightmare.

‘What does my mother write about me?’ Ren almost tore the datapad out of Hux’s hand.

‘It’s not from your mother. It’s from ourMaster of Ceremonies. I don’t think your mother would write to me at all.’

‘Her Master of Ceremonies has to have mentioned the only son of the bride.’ Ren pursed his lips.

‘There’s nothing, I’m afraid... Let’s see. The bride doesn’t want to see any red elements, especially lighting ones. The only speeches will be delivered by few famous writers, charity workers and your uncle Lando. Every political party has its own sector and leaving them is strongly discouraged, but if one has to, one should ask for assistance from the organisers... No weapons of any kind, sharp objects, metal objects et cetera, the dishes will be made from unbreakable materials, the utensils will be blunt, the food will be cut earlier, the presence of pets have to be confirmed with at least four standard weeks notice... Oh, there’ll be an antimissiles system and a bunch of ysalamirs! But no, nothing about you. Unless the notice about the fines for destroying property counts. You might want to read it. It’s very detailed.’

‘You can’t tell me my mother doesn’t want me to play a significant role in her marriage ceremony!’

‘Well, you didn’t invite her to your official promotion to Supreme Leader, did you?’

‘I thought we’d killed her, then! Now, I want to be a part of her life. Don’t let politics divide our family any longer.’

 _Nothing says “united family” like a lightsaber in your father’s heart—_ Hux immediately kicked himself mentally. It wouldn’t do to die now. Just a few weeks more and he would sign this symbolic contract, end the war and would have power over the galaxy in his hands.

Well, half the power. Leia would get the other. Leia, the Core, the Senate, the Elder Houses, Trade Federations, Crime Syndicates and Families, and... But still, officially, he would become the General of the united galactic army. With voting rights and a seat in the government. And the Senate’s functions could be easily interpreted as mostly advisory. The contract was definitely worth staying alive for.

The fact that Ren, apparently bored with the administrative minutiae of being the Supreme Leader, was going to resign himself to the religious role—prophet of the balanced Force and the Master of the Knights of Ren—was just a bonus.

 

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa!’ Fa’mm and two bodyguards stopped Nellus Vad. ‘Where are you going with _these_ , m’am?’

‘These? Oh, you mean the flowers? They’re my gift. Part of the gift, the main one is waiting in this special security chamber of yours.’

‘No flowers, no gifts, no unauthorised objects of any kind in the main rooms or in the couple’s vicinity! Give it to Garshik here.’ She gestured to the Gamorrean on her left. ‘He’ll have them destroyed.’

‘ _Destroyed_? I’m sorry, do you even know who I am? And do you have any idea how much these flowers cost?’

Gamorreans put their hands on their weapons. Fa’mm tsked.

‘Right here, you’re just another guest on a _high risk_ marriage ceremony aka a potential assassin. And these are not flowers but potential instrument of murder. Do you know how many plants are poisonous to humans with prolonged exposure? How many deadly insects can be hidden in a single bouquet? There have been no deaths during the marriage ceremonies, weddings and honeymoons I’ve organised and no galactic war or political games will destroy my reputation. Is that clear?’

Garshik held his hand expectedly. Nellus’ jaw clenched, but she gave him the flowers. Fa’mm beamed.

‘Thank you for your cooperation and understanding, Chancellor!’

 

Hux’s comm blinked with an upcoming call. He answered it with a heavy sigh. He was damn tired—while confirming the contract took just a moment, even with the princess throwing the datapad at him after signing her name, there were speeches to be made, fireworks to be watched, crowds to be smiled at and a billion other idiotic, but apparently necessary things. He just wanted to sleep. Was it too much to ask on one’s wedding night?

‘...Princess?’

‘No “General”, no “Your Highness”, no “precious” even? I see someone took this theatre seriously and dares to be intimate. Doesn’t matter. What are we planning to do with our wedding gifts?’

She said the “we” and “our wedding” with a mix of disdain, shock, fury and terror. Hux really couldn’t blame her.

‘No sane person would miss such a great opportunity for an assassination attempt. They’re probably poisoned, radioactive or filled with explosives and will kill us upon unpacking. Let’s give them away to some charity.’

‘So they will poison or blow up some poor children or little puppies? That would do wonders for our reputation.’

‘I don’t think it can get any worse.’

She laughed.

‘That’s just because you’re young, naive and sheltered.’ She laughed again, a little higher this time. ‘Damn. Fa’mm must have given me something. Of course. After all, she has plenty of experience in _those matters_.’

‘Some—You mean narcotics? Your... Our wedding planner?’

‘She’s also the Master of Ceremonies for Noble House of Kuat. A lot of political marriages between former enemies there. She probably thought she was doing me a favour.’ Leia massaged her temples. ‘I’m not going to kill her. I’m going to kill all those damn Republic elites, forcing me into this out of cowardice.’

‘You mean our marriage contract and peace.’

‘Peace, peace! Peace is the cowards' favorite excuse. It’s how you rose to power in the first place. If they’d only listened to me—’ She blinked. ‘Damn, I’m high. I’m talking to you. I thought calling you was a good idea. I’m intoxicated.’

‘We can send the gifts to the Senators, notable criminals and Trade Federation Executive Directors. I’m sure some of them will be foolish and greedy enough to open them.’

‘You’re still proposing murder, you know?’

‘You said you wanted to kill them. _You know_ our calls are probably bugged, do you?’

‘By more than one party, I’m sure. That’s why this is an old-fashioned, short-distance one and R2-D2 is buzzing the line.’ Right. She was just a few bedrooms away. ‘I’m very, very high, because I think you’re trying to be... romantic? Courteous?’

Hux shrugged. The cheap, blue-ish holograms stuttered, like it was mirroring his gesture—but that was surely just an irrational impression of a tired mind. After all, it was their damn wedding night. They both had the right to be a little unstable.

‘It’s more about finishing what I started. I’ve no love for the Republic’s Senators. Except for you, of course.’

‘ _Excuse_ _me_?!’

‘It’s a polite thing to exclude your wife from the beings you hate, isn’t it?’

‘Do you have to remind me we’re married? And I’m not a Senator any longer.’

‘Oh, yes. We’re above them, now. This new union gives us the power to—’

‘If you propose creating a new Empire, I’ll come to your bedroom and strangle you with your own pillow.’

‘I doubt it. I’m younger and physically stronger.’

‘I’ll wait till you’re asleep. Wear you out a little before. Oh, _fuck_.’ Leia rolled her head back and stared into what probably was the ceiling of her room. ‘I didn’t say that. I definitely didn’t say that.’

‘We might pretend you meant wearing out via political discussions.’

‘I’m interpreting your actions as courteous again. It’s not a narcotic, it’s a poison. I might add Fa’mm to the list of the beings I’m going to kill.’

‘How high am I on it?’’

‘The first, of course. You’re my husband. It's only basic etiquette.’

‘Shall I return the favour?’

‘Don’t bother. Do you think our wedding planner gave you something special as well?’

Hux mulled over the question for a while. He felt strange, drained and yet full of tension so high it seemed like his nerves could shoot sparks. It might be the effect of the ceremony itself. His life-long dream had just come true. Nominally the First Order had united with the New Republic to create the Galactic Federation, true, but only those most blinded by the propaganda would see it as anything other than the Order's—Hux’s own—victory.

‘No, I don’t think she did.’

‘Oh. You think your own wedding planner hates you? Perhaps she had some family on Hosnian Prime.’

‘I didn’t say she hates me.’

‘What other reason might she have to not give you something to ease this nightmare? Help me, giggledust, you’re my only hope.’

Hux sighed. He knew the line, of course. They had bugged and hacked enough of the Princess’ personal spaces to know most of her family's intimate jokes and allusions. She probably expected it, but he wasn’t sure if he should confirm her suspicions. It didn’t seem quite appropriate.

He would ask her personal droid about it later. And as for now...

‘It’s not a nightmare for me.’

Even on the ever-faltering hologram it was obvious Leia had stilled. Great. He'd made some mistake in protocol.

‘You mean the... political side of the contract, right?’ she asked, very, very slowly.

‘The galactic rule, yes. What else may I... Ah. No, no, absolutely not. I’m not like Peavey with your posters and... Oh, damn.’

‘Peavey. Great.’ Leia sighed. ‘I’m not surprised. But please, don’t mention this again... Oh. General. You’re _blushing_.’

The princess leaned into the image, reached with her hand, as though she would like to touch him through the hologram. Brush a strand of hair from his brow. Caress his cheek. Put a hand on his shoulder.

It was impossible. It was a hologram. Leia wouldn’t want to touch him either way. Something was wrong with the image at her side of the transmission, probably. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—and yet—

It was just like the last time when Ren choked him. His chest tightened, his stomach rose to his throat, the world became blurry... And that feeling of absolute terror, of falling inside one's own head. Maybe Fa’mm had given him something special as well.

‘Naive, sheltered and afraid. So afraid.’ Leia shook her head and took a step back. ‘And yet a murderer of billions. I shouldn’t disturb your rest, _General_. I’ll have the gifts destroyed in safe conditions.’

Hux wanted to say something—goodnight? rest well? see you next year, on the galactic budget planning conference?—but she’d already ended the call.

 

The next galactic budget planning conference—and the meetings before it—went surprisingly well. There were always dozens and dozens, and dozens of bodyguards, advisors, handmaidens and even cleaning personnel between Leia and Hux, but they managed to review their shared resources and all the ways the governmental institutions wasted them, establish some general politics—to Hux’s obvious dismay, Leia disagreed with his lawyers’ interpretation of the Senate’s “purely advisory function”—and, indeed, plan the budget.

‘I never thought I'd say it, but Hux actually made it easier. The Core Senators would never have agree to spend more credits on the help funds for the Rims, if he hadn't announced fleet exercises over Coruscant. You should see their faces when they finally saw _Supremacy II_ with their own eyes. We had the most effective, to the point, sensible budget discussions I’ve ever participated in. I think we might have a chance at working, effective democracy this time. It’d be great for the galaxy and I could, perhaps, finally get some rest... But don’t tell _him_ this. The line between executive power and autocracy is thin and we’re already walking a fine line.’

‘We don’t talk much nowadays.’ Ben—Kylo; accepting his chosen name was a part of the treaty, alongside “Finn”—shrugged and levitated the teapot to himself. ‘I think he’s afraid I’m going to put a lightsaber through his heart at any moment.’

‘And that’s different from before...?’

‘Before, he thought I was going to choke him. Or throw him at a wall one time too many.’

It was so hard to talk to her son, despite or because of his nonchalance. He had told her he’d regretted killing Han, at least. Wished he'd never had to—and she'd almost choked on guilt then, because who had sent Han to the Starkiller, straight to his death?

It was all so hard. Would always be, she feared. But Han and Luke both had died believing there was still Light in her son, repeating “no one is ever really gone”. It was her turn to repeat it, now, to keep their faith. For the sake of their memory, if nothing else.

‘But you won’t? Kill him, I mean?’

Ben’s gaze fell at her, intense and hot like lava. So eager to please.

‘Would you like me to?’

A good question. After Hux’s death, his share of power—military command, seat in government, but not her hand, fortunately—would be inherited by the next highest ranking member of the First Order’s army. Which probably meant some older ex-Imperial. Not a pleasant prospect. But there would a time of transition, of disorder and chaos, and if Leia played her cards right she might, perhaps, finish what the Alliance had started, what _she_ had started with The Resistance—tear down this stinking compromise, burn out the last Imperial remnants, restore the Republic, this time wiser. She would have chance at finally making her parents’, her father’s, dream come true.

Her last one, perhaps. She wasn’t getting any younger.

But it would still be a chance only, and an uncertain one. Her failure would leave the galaxy in a state of unrest, the Republic razed to the ground, The First Order—Imperial remnants—getting complete power over the fleet and troops, over _the galaxy_.

Besides, Hux wasn’t the worst of... allies. He was open to reason and didn’t know enough of politics to counter Leia’s arguments, which meant he tended to agree with her. Often after some hesitation and dramatics, and empty speeches, but years in the Senate had taught Leia how to bear these.

‘No, no. He’s useful. It’s not difficult, working with him. Our holo-conferences are very well-organised, efficient and... Well, reasonable. He’s used to orders.’

Ben—Kylo—her son looked at her in silence, chewing his lip. Finally, he broke into laughter and almost managed to make it sound not bitter.

‘ _This_ , you must love.’

 

‘There’s... the problem... of the army budget.’

‘I thought we decided army budgeting at the annual meeting?’

‘We did. But Kuat shipyards raised their prices, which means maintenance costs will be much higher than we expected. We can cut the research budget, or demand additional money from the Senate, or leave more than half of our fleet... not fighting trim.’ Hux sounded pained by the mere idea.

Leia couldn’t help laughing.

‘Which is normal for peace time. I think the usual mobilisation and fighting trim levels are about one third or lower?’

‘The Imperial Fleet—‘

‘The Empire promised people peace, but never delivered. It was in a state of permanent war. Yet even they put a good quarter of their forces in scheduled repair or, as you call it, not fighting trim state. Our arrangement bids us to seek peace, not war, General.’ Whatever she herself thought about it, it was nice to see Hux’s grimace at the reminder. ‘I guess the research department is close to your own heart? Loosen the repair schedule a little, then.’

‘I’d prefer to ask the Senate for an opinion.’

Oh, those cowards in the Senate would be very glad to take the credits from some social care funds and fuel this army of his. As long as he kept it far from the Core.

‘I won’t allow it.’ She smiled. ‘Did you try asking Corellia or other shipyards? Now when you and the Republic aren’t enemies, they probably won’t flat out refuse you. They might not have the experience with those particular class of ships, but that’s just another reason to haggle a little.’

 

‘General. Would it be terribly inconvenient for you to run the next fleet exercises near the Tatooine-Cantonica trade routes? There’re only two decent hyperspace tunnels like this, so it’s not a huge area to cover... Yes, yes, I understand you can’t move the fleet near your homeworld, it's always a PR distaster, I meant the part outside of the sector... Why, why, can’t my husband just do a thing because I’m asking nicely? Right. Not nicely. But asking. Where’s a “please”? Haven’t you heard about suggestions, you nerf—no, wait! Hutts. What “Hutts”, isn’t it obvious... All right. I’ve got information the Hutts are planning a huge smuggling operation. “Live goods” will be smuggled as well. It’ll start more or less at the scheduled fleet training time... Mhm. The Senate would never make a move against the Hutts, but I cannot—Vader was a slave, you know? What? No, I hate him, I just wanted to be polite and I thought he’s your favourite hero. Besides Tarkin, but I wouldn’t be able to... Exactly. Oh, you think about my feelings sometimes? I’m _flattered_. _I thought_ you might like to poke the Hutts a little. Delay their plans, make them lose some credits. Do my friends...? Hm. Perhaps they're planning a rescue operation and perhaps they need just a little more time, but I’m not going to confirm it. Mhm. Yes, Dameron, too. Hypothetically. No, I hope he’s _not_ going to die, but if you prefer to imagine he might... I should just be direct with you the next time? General, I’m not sure you’ll like my directness. But I appreciate your help. Yes, this could be considered a “thank you”, obviously.’

 

‘Princess? What now, another charity mission?’

‘This is what the army's for in peacetime! But, no, I’ve decided to torture you, _Armitage_ , instead of C-3PO. He doesn’t deserve it.’

‘I’m honoured.’

‘I’m going on a diplomatic mission to Rhoda III and there's a few places in my speech I’m unsure of... You’re not a great rhetorician, but this is exactly what I need now, a spontaneous, more natural opinion. So, which do you prefer: “citizens of Rhoda III” or “children of Rhoda III” in the opening line? I can give you context, if you need it, but remember, it’s a rather old-fashioned, poetry-liking moon, which would point us to “children”, but they also have strong republican traditions and “citizens” would play on them well...’

 

‘Hux? Has something happened?’

‘No, no, it’s just... Happy birthday, princess. I guess. I mean, no, definitely happy birthday. I interrupted your party? I’m sorry, I’ll ca—‘

‘It’s all right. I was tired either way, I need a break. I’m glad you remembered. It’s very nice and I... I just didn’t expect it, that’s all. But it’s really a pleasant surprise. I’m happy and—erm. Yes. Happy. And... and our fleet? How is it?’

 

‘We’re doing some research about living in extreme conditions. It could help with the colonisation of new planets. Purely civilian, almost architectural project.’

‘Congratulations, General, you’re starting to get the whole peace business! And how may I aid you?’ She expected him to ask for additional funds.

‘ _Via_ telling me how it feels to be in the cosmic vacuum.’

‘Cold. Empty. Painful. Nothing to breathe. Nothing interesting. Sorry, at that time, I was focused mostly on cursing you to hell and back, not taking notes.’

‘Understandable, given the circumstances.’

‘I think so. Either way, sorry, I only remember cursing you. And coldness. Five Hoths cold, at least.’

‘Five Hoths—‘ He looked downright terrified, at the prospect of not knowing some fancy scale probably, before he remembered and scowled. ‘Ah. Your Ter—Rebel Base Planet.’

‘Mhm. Affectionate nickname: Frozen Hell. Although, for the most of time, I didn’t realise how cold it was. Just like I hadn’t really felt how warm it was on Yavin. I was numb, so numb to everything, and then Luke disappeared and Han went after him, and they both could have died and suddenly everything rushed back and I was feeling again.’

‘A typically human reaction to highly emotional circumstances. I didn’t quite get how uncomfortable Jakku was when I visited it for the first time, too. I fainted once or twice from exposure to the sun and the heat, but it all felt very distant. Like holos. Many things felt this way. Later on our, that’s it, the Order’s, first ships, too. I didn’t get the worst of it, though. My soldiers took care of me. Sort of,’ the speed he added it with betrayed how afraid of seeming vulnerable he was to anyone who was older than a one-year-old kid. ‘I suppose I really thought we—the Empire—was going to win and I and father would go back home, to my mother and his wife, and everything would go back to normal. Kids are like that,’ this defensiveness, again.

It always thawed Leia’s heart a little, if only because Tarkin had been anything but defensive. Yet her smile was just as much warm as it was cutting. She doubted Hux would take her gentleness well. He would see it as a pity and who knows, who knows, perhaps he’d be right.

 

The first serious, assassination attempt was made at their third anniversary, after they gave their speeches, smiled at the cameras from two opposite corners of the stage and were heading to their separate balconies to admire the fireworks, smile some more and cheer with the crowd.

Leia felt a tug in the Force, dragging her focus to Hux. As though he was in danger. Like she _cared_ he was in danger.

She didn’t dwell on it, just followed the instinct, tried to make it sharper, pointing precisely at the threat—a sniper? a bomb? a poison?—and... Ah. Something was glittering and moving, between of lights and confetti.

She was surprised this little thing alarmed her senses so much, but she had learnt to follow them. No shortage of deadly little things in this galaxy.

‘Look, a beetle!’

They looked. Hux grew white, Fa’mm cursed and half a dozen of the bodyguards rushed Leia to the emergency shelter.

 

Whoever organised this probably never expected both of them to come out of any assassination attempt alive. Or rather: expected the assassination attempt to be arranged by one of them—they were in the Core, so probably Leia—and thought the whole shelter would be part of the charade. They must have been terribly disappointed.

So, there was only a single shelter, not big enough for Leia, Hux and their respective courts. They needed to be trimmed down to six beings and Leia's two ridiculous droids.

It was the most intimate situation they'd found each other in sincethe beginning of their arrangement. Especially considering the six remaining guards were the epitome of the discretion. They wouldn’t bat an eye if Leia and Hux started plotting another Hosnian Cataclysm.

‘I think we should sleep.’ Leia fell at the bed. ‘It’s going to take some time. Fa’mm is very thorough in her searching. And she’s furious. We might as well get some rest.’

 _Fa’mm_ was furious? Hux was furious. This was all Cardinal’s fault. If he’d died as the good soldier should have, instead of escaping with that spy, the secret of the Parnassos beetle would have die with Phasma. _Instead,_ assassins had dug the planet empty, searching for the lethal insect. Apparently, some of said assassins were also the fans of dramatic irony.

Unless it was the work of someone from the First Order’s older faction. There weren’t many people with strong ties to his father left, but the sentiment among the older generation had always run in Brendol’s favour. And there were of course those unhappy that it was Hux who had married the princess and the power.

‘General?’ Leia’s voice brought him back to reality. He smiled tightly. ‘You should get some rest too. We cannot do anything from here. Waiting and thinking about who-s and why-s... It won’t do us any good.’

‘There’s only one bed.’

At least the situation was an emergency, so there wouldn’t be any legal repercussions. But the political ones could be dire.

‘It’s a big bed.’

C-3PO made clicky sounds of disgust and utter disbelief. Hux found himself agreeing.

‘It’s a breach of the contract. You insisted—‘

‘It’s not a breach of contract if both sides agree. I’m not going to make you sit on the chair half the night or longer, mulling over your father’s death and the First Order’s schemes. It would be torture and we’re not at war. Not anymore.’

Terrifyingly, the first words which came to his minds were “honey trap”. If the chair was torture, then the bed should naturally be—well, he fortunately didn’t say it aloud.

Leia sighed and laid herself comfortably on the small tower of pillows, half-sitting this way.

‘I know the First Order is full of legalists, but this is extreme... Why did you blow up the Senate? You would love it in there.’

He answered automatically “because it was illegal” and wasn’t even surprised she laughed.

‘Well, this explains your panic at the mere thought of stepping outside the contract.’

‘Not everybody was born above all rules, including the laws of physics.’

‘ _Don’t_. Or wait, I’ll rise. I think sons of generals are higher than most on the rules-making ladder. I think they can understand the whole power-responsibility-lack of freedom equation. Although, I admit, you tried to create a world without much freedom for anybody. Your equality.’ She raised her eyes to the hardened, atomic bomb-proof ceiling, avoiding his gaze. ‘I may also admit, just because we’re off record, that our previous Senate made a mistake... opposite, yet similar in nature. Equality via lack of responsibilities. Freedom to float endlessly, talking about useless matters and not dirtying their hands either to wound or to help the wounded. It’s like in the old story about the priest—’

‘I know this one!’ exclaimed C-3PO. ‘The priest heading to the temple after ritual cleansing saw a beaten up Rodian, but though he pitied him, he couldn’t help, for touching the blood would make him unclean, and if he was unclean, he couldn’t make it onto the sacred ground—‘

Leia silenced the droid with a gesture. ‘He would lose the chance to see his gods, perhaps forever. Yes, we know.‘ Hux actually didn’t. ‘Our old Senate was like this. But it doesn’t justify destroying it and killing the Senators, let alone the whole system. I just... I don’t know. I’m old and tired, and somebody tried to kill me tonight. Again. My whole life in a single scene. Perhaps I’m just jealous.’

Now, that was foolish. The senators were a band of spoiled idiots and their deaths had confirmed it. Leia had noticed the danger and fled from it in time, and then had come out of the top, alongside him.

Alderaan, being Vader’s daughter, losing the position in the Senate, losing her son, her husband, her twin—every one of these could break a human. And yet. Hux always admired the ruthless strength it must have taken her to survive.

‘Of the late Senators? They’re all dead.’

‘But at least they got to be carefree. Happy. Naive children, playing with the power, but—well, playing. Having fun. I can't remember having something like this. I’m not sure I ever...’ she waved her hand. ‘The games I played back on Alderaan were usually educational or diplomatic. Organising childish balls and learning protocol. Making my own Senate and the Council from my dolls. But I never wanted any differently, never let my parents show me...’ Leia shook her head, smiled politely. He could tell she'd spoken too much and was trying to cover it. ‘How did you play? As a kid?’

He could—should—say he didn’t remember. Or flat out refuse to answer. The contract didn’t say a word about sharing personal stories. But he asked:

‘Before or after Jakku? After, I was a soldier.’ He started pacing the room; it was sadly inadequate for the activity, especially with six bodyguards and two droids. ‘Had my own unit and all. Not much time for playing. Although I suppose the less formal training we did could be called “playing”. And my soldiers taught me how to gamble, which is technically “playing” as well, so—’

‘Before.’

‘Oh. Like... like all children in the Academy. I think these were what you called “educational” games. Basic fighting and physical training, just in more carefree form. Learning how to cooperate in a group. How to obey orders. How to—‘ survive, but he somehow doubted this was what the princess wanted to hear. ‘—live the life one's received.’

‘Live the life one's... Ha. Han was always talking about dealing with the hand given. And outside the Academy? You must have done something non-military in your life. With your mother?’

‘My mother was usually working.’ He didn’t like the way his voice sounded: clipped, angry, wounded.

But the princess didn’t comment on it. On the contrary, she smiled. ‘Mine, too. I had to sneak up to her dressing room to spend some time with her. Once or twice I even managed to dodge my teachers and the guards and hide myself in the audience chamber. I was bored to death but at least I felt closer to my mother. And I got very angry at anybody who dared to oppose her. Poor uncle Carmille, I bet he wondered why he suddenly became my main enemy.’

‘I didn’t sneak up. I just had to help with the work. Putting the dishes away, making the dough, whipping cream or butter...’ Hux decided he must look like an idiot, zig-zagging through the bodyguards, and stopped, balling his fists. ‘They liked me. Other workers. Gave me sweets. I guessed we could say I was playing there? Making a lot of noise on the kitchen utensils. Pretend the cutlery pieces were my soldiers. Baking and decorating cookies with my mother.’

‘You know how to bake?’ Leia seemed impressed. ‘I can make tea and warm military rations, that’s all.’

Hux wondered briefly. His mother had never let him near the oven or boiling water, but he knew how to make dough and remembered the time and temperature needed, and baking was a chemical, physical process, possible to write down in equations, so probably...

‘I can make simple cookies. And whipped cream. And butter. Things like this. Father was a traditional village guy.’ He tried to keep the spite out of his voice. ‘He demanded such things be done by hand.’

‘Sounds great. You, not your father.’

Hux almost laughed. ‘Oh, _Princess_ , you really don’t know a thing about cooking. They’re... the basics. I can show you—‘ He cut himself short, wishing he’d bit off his tongue. Great. Like Leia would ever need the knowledge about the art of cream-whipping. Not to mention all the breaches of the contract it would entail.

‘Sure. I’d be happy to learn. You make cookies, I make moonshine—Han taught me recipes of a dozen different kinds...’

‘I know how to make moonshine, too. My first unit taught me. Along with the gambling.’ And cooking some drugs, but he probably shouldn’t mention this.

Leia made theatrically worried face. ‘There’s nothing I can impress you with, is there?’

Aha. As though she wouldn’t know a couple of languages, protocols and the cultures of hundreds worlds and all the operas of the galaxy. Not to mention the whole “being royalty” and “surviving in a cosmic vacuum” business.

‘Hm. But I might recall an impressive thing or two after some sleep. And I won’t be able to rest knowing you’re spending the whole night curled on the chair. Act like a normal human being, make the exception to the contract and use the damn bed. I’m not going to sue you for this. _Please._ ’

When Hux had dreamt about galactic elites begging him, he hadn’t had this in mind... But he already had the political begging, pleading and whining in spades. And none of it had come from Leia. “Please, stop acting like a child and sit here” was probably the most he would ever get from her.

C-3PO was still complaining in the background when Hux sat on the bed-frame, his back so straight and tight it was painful. Next moment, R2-D2 told his companion to shut up and Hux realised he making himself even more ridiculous. He grit his teeth, moved to the centre of the bed and lay on his side. The princess was kind enough to make him more room, pushing her pillows towards the edge. He felt a pang of guilt for inconveniencing her.

Idiotic. He shouldn’t care at all. He didn’t care. He muttered “see, now you can rest, goodnight”, closed his eyes, evened his breath and tried to sleep, without much hope of success. He wasn’t surprised by how sharply awake he was in the next long moments, filled with sound of quiet breathing, bodyguards’ steps, mechanic buzz of the droids and the almost unbearable _feeling_ of someone’s else—Leia’s, it would have been much easier if it had been anyone else, he had slept in barracks for years—presence just out of hand's reach.

The presence drew nearer. ‘You’re not sleeping.’

Obviously. ‘I didn’t realise it was demanded.’

‘Of course not, you... Eh. I just—Oh. I think I feel something outside the room.’

Hux jerked up. The four of the bodyguards were already at the door with their weapons drawn. Leia seemed... amused.

It took Hux a second to figure it out. The princess would like to either kill him or talk without witnesses. Both things were absolutely forbidden by their arrangement, but he supposed she was getting fed up with it in this particular situation.

To be honest, if he couldn’t tell himself he could always get those three bodyguards assassinated, the thought of them hearing about the time he had spent with mother wouldn’t be fully comfortable either. And as far as he knew, Leia wasn’t in the habit of killing her servants.

He probably shouldn’t help her in breaking the contract. But she had said she felt something and she was the one with the wild, terrible Force. He might pretend he believed her. For the whole galaxy, she would be the one cheating, lying and destroying the peace for the personal whims. As usual. His propaganda could use this image.

No other reason to humour the princess. No other reason at all.

 

Convincing the bodyguards to leave them alone took a long time, even with both Leia and Hux swearing up and down they were not going to murder each other.

‘R2-D2, block the door. I hate it. Always with people, always with soldiers, always with some ears-droppers, like we're still in the middle of the war.’ She curled on her side, not close to him, but closer. She was _babbling_. ‘I was told we’re constantly bugged since I was ten. I’m supposedly the ruling class of this galaxy and I _will_ have a moment of the privacy in my own forced marriage, even if I have to burn the galaxy down for it.’

Hux shrugged and sighed—something about Starkiller's destruction being counter-productive to the last part—but his fists closed tightly. Nervous habit, so obvious one. Leia suddenly felt tired. Torn.

Of course she was hurting him. She always hurt anyone who was cursed by her prolonged presence. Even the enemy.

On impulse, she touched his wrist, put her thumb between his curled fingers. She expected Hux to jerk back and indeed, he made a motion to—but he cut it short, relaxed his hands and lightly, cautiously stroke the inner side of her palm. For a moment, there was just silence and it felt—not bad, actually. Safe. Understanding and understandable. Not warm, but like the single point devoid of this numbing, bone-deep coldness.

The room was properly heated, of course. Perhaps Leia was cold for a long, long time and just hadn’t noticed it, again. She closed her eyes and held his wrist tighter. This _lunatic_ might think she wanted him to get up and curl up on the chair otherwise.

‘Will you really make cookies for me?’

‘I may, although I doubt your security will let you taste them. They will have them tested for poisons until they dry out and crumble.’

‘Or eat them all. More old-fashioned poison-testing,’ Leia laughed. ‘I think we will need a change in the contract for this, then? To be able to meet and bake them in person.’

‘ _Another_ breach of contract? You’re in a very rebellious mood tonight. Not that it’s a surprise. To be honest, I didn’t expect you to not break the contract for three whole years. Isn’t it your record as a law abiding citizen?’

‘I broke other laws in the meantime. For balance.’

C-3PO were already informing her—them—how many points of the contract would need to be changed. Apparently more than a dozen.

‘I wish I could trust you.’ Hux was tracing her arm with the fingers of his free hand. ‘And not expect the changes to take a sharp turn from “meeting to bake cakes and drink moonshine” into “suspending my government seat” territory.’

Leia wished she could say she didn’t deserve it, to have a man who had destroyed a planetary system find her untrustworthy. But the Force made it hard to lie to herself.

‘But we may talk about making it more flexible later. If you don’t use this situation against me in the Senate first thing tomorrow morning.’

‘I never snitch. You of all people should know.’

He didn’t answer, but his hand travelled—so very hesitant—to her braids, and pulled the hairpins free. It couldn’t be easy at that angle, but he managed fine. Golden fingers. Han’s had been like this, too. A welcome side-effect of all the tinkering.

‘It won’t do for you to sleep with those. They’re too hard. You'll have a hell of a headache in the morning.’

‘Right. I wasn’t exactly planning to sleep here. Like this. I wasn’t behind tonight’s assassination attempt.’ With the emphasis on “tonight’s”.

‘I know.’

She felt his fingers in her hair, snatching some lost pin, and uncurling her braids a little. They would look messy in the morning. It was a nice thought.

‘We may come back to this conversation. About changing the rules.’

‘If I don’t snitch?’

‘Preferably.’

C-3PO chimed in, opposed to using language such as “snitching”, claiming it had a destructive influence on the way the sentient beings saw the law and the governmental structure. Hux actually agreed, which sent C-3PO into a spiral of delighted lectures about language theory.

Time flew. Hux was playing with the ends of Leia’s hair, she was still holding his wrists—he was surely going to do something stupid if she let him go, like find out who was behind the assassination attempt and destroy their planetary system—C-3PO in the background was chasing digression after digression about the cognition-shaping power of language, R2-D2 was informing them from time to time about yet another attempt to circumvent his blockage by the bodyguards—halted by him, of course. Hux was answering with some technical questions.

It was all bizarre enough to feel familiar. Safe. And Leia didn’t even notice when thoughts, dancing and shapes-changing like a light sculptures, lost all rhyme and reason, she slipped into sleep. And if she thought—imagined—dreamt—someone’s lips touching her forehead lightly, then well, such was the nature of dreams. Nothing to sue anyone about.

**Author's Note:**

> T. is the best beta in the world and I cannot thank them enough for helping me.
> 
> ...I have such a weakness for campy, Bond-esque titles.


End file.
